


Into Ruination

by NikkiNoir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Trigger: Mention of Suicide, apocalypse au, destiel au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:19:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiNoir/pseuds/NikkiNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mutated form of a rabies super virus started appearing, it didn't take society long to crumble. Dean was alone. His father was missing and his brother was dead. Things seemed bleak, and the only way out was the last bullet in his gun. But, as he was about to go through with it, he hears a call for help...and that's when everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first new project I've done since finishing my "Fast Times" series. (Read here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/112351)
> 
> I've never done a true horror fic, so I figured I'd try my hand at a apocalypse AU of sorts. THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT SO I AM WELL AWARE THAT THERE WILL BE A COUPLE A ERRORS I MISSED. Not sure if I'm going to keep going with it, so I figured I'd post the first chapter and wait to a couple of weeks to see if it sparks any interest. If not, it's on to a different project.
> 
> So, feel free to comment and leave kudos or subscribe if you want more!! I'm actually pretty excited about this project and I hope all of you are too! :)
> 
> ALSO. Everything I post here consists of rough drafts, so I'm aware there will be some spelling errors and such. Ignore them...unless it's something major, then, please let me know. Politely. Thanks for reading!!

_“Dean!”_

Sam’s voice was filled with fear, “we can’t keep fighting,” he pointed his gun at one of the monstrosities that had just broken through the window, shooting it without hesitation, “Dean, we have to run-”

Dean fired a few shots as more of them attempted to climb in through the broken window, cutting themselves on the glass without any indication that they were in pain. Where had they all come from? Dean and Sam had been so careful. They thought they were safe. This was their home.

“Dean, we have to go NOW,” Sam yelled, pressing his weight against the door. His gun was tucked into the waistband of his pants; he was out of ammo. 

“Sammy, we grew up here,” Dean emptied his clip into a particularly tenacious one who had nearly gotten inside, “just keep fighting-”

“Dean,” Sam struggled to keep the door shut, “this isn’t our house anymore!”

Dean saw the terror in Sam’s eyes, He knew they couldn’t win. Their home was lost. If they kept fighting, they would both get infected.

“Get to the car,” Dean said finally, “let’s go!” he turned to run, taking a few steps before he heard Sam yelp in pain.

“Run, Dean,” Sam was next to him, yanking his arm, “I have the keys, run!”

Dean did as he was told, letting Sam drag him to their dad’s vintage ‘67 Impala, that had been left behind while he was on a business trip in California. Sam tossed the keys to Dean and got into the passenger seat, while Dean started the car. When they were both inside, Dean peeled out of the driveway, speeding off down the street. 

“That was close,” Dean chuckled without humor. He knew he had nearly screwed them both back there...but that house was the last bit of comfort they had left. There was no way he would have let it go without a fight. 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was low. Something was wrong. Dean could tell instantly.

“Sammy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, slowing in front of a hardware store, which had already been looted, so he kept driving.

“We gotta talk,” Sam said cryptically, staring out the windshield.

Dean pulled down a side road and stopped the car, “look, I’m sorry about back there-”

“It’s not-”

“It won’t happen again,” Dean kept talking, “I just thought we could protect the house-”

“Dean, I got bit,” Sam whispered, turning to show Dean his shoulder. Blood was coming through the flannel. 

“Sam, we can figure-”

“You know there’s no cure,” Sam frowned, “I have a day, tops, before I…” his voice trailed off, “I need your help,” he looked at Dean, “I don’t think I could do it myself-”

“No,” Dean held up his hands defensively, “I can’t, Sam. Don’t make me-”

“Please,” Sam pleaded, his eyes flickering to the gun on Dean’s lap, “don’t make me become one of those things out there.”

Dean picked up his gun and tried to hand it to Sam, “Sammy, I can’t-”

“If you don’t, I’m gonna become a monster,” Sam scowled at Dean, “if you cared about me at all, you’d do this,” he sighed, taking the gun from Dean when he didn’t respond, “fine.”

Dean couldn’t put his little brother down. Sam may have been bit, but he was still Sam. Killing Sam would be murder. There had to be another way. 

Sam slowly pointed the gun at his temple, shutting his eyes. He was visibly struggling to even take the safety off. It pained Dean to be at such a loss. Saving Sam wasn’t an option. There was no cure for that stupid super virus. If you were infected and didn’t die, you turned. The only option for Sam was death. Sam had to die.

Dean gently took the gun from Sam, “you’re sure there’s no cure?” he asked, his thumb resting on the safety.

Sam looked at Dean, “not that I know of. This is the only way to stop it,” his eyes went to the gun, “at least it’ll be quick.”

“Sorry I couldn’t save you,” Dean felt tears in his eyes as he took off the safety, “I should have listened to you, Sam.”

“There’s nothing you can do about that now,” Sam smiled weakly, “lives end. At least I got a choice about my future. I’m choosing to opt out,” he closed his eyes, “just get it over with, Dean. Please.”

Dean’s hand was trembling as he raised the gun, “I love you, little brother,” he breathed, closing his eyes as soon as he pulled the trigger, the blackness enveloping him.

***

Every night it was the same nightmare. Each time Dean closed his eyes, the guilt he felt manifested itself into memories of the last time he saw his brother alive. It had been two months, but the day was still vivid in his mind. There was rarely a time when he wasn’t fixated on the events of that day. 

Dean blamed himself for Sam’s death. Not because he was the one who had to pull the trigger, but because it was his idea to defend the house. His idea to stay at the house as long as they did. If he hadn’t been so desperate to protect Sam, maybe none of this would have happened. He promised to look out for Sam and he failed.

Sam was dead and Dean was the cause. 

It had been six months since news of a mutated rabies super virus first aired on TV. Within a month, society collapsed and the grid went down. The virus came out of nowhere- one day everything was normal and the next day people were turning into juiced up, violent monsters, attacking all who weren’t infected. The last news report Dean heard urged the public to avoid the infected because even the smallest scratch was enough to spread the virus. 

Not much was known about the virus. One thing Dean knew for sure was that there was no cure. Even if a cure did exist, the virus worked it’s way through a body within a day. The virus didn’t kill those it infected. It merely destroyed brain functions associated with speech and free will, causing the victim to become irrationally aggressive. The Rabids, as they were called, didn’t appear to feel any kind of pain and would keep attacking until they were dead. 

Rabids were ruthless. If being fast wasn’t bad enough, they were twice as strong as they were pre-virus. They didn’t tire if they had a food source, which ranged from small animals to people who couldn’t get away. The terrifying part of it all was that the Rabids looked completely normal, until provoked. Which, coincidentally enough, didn’t take much. Sometimes just seeing a person was enough to set them off. 

At first it was difficult to kill Rabids. It felt like murder. Dean saw them as sick people, because, technically, they were sick and not undead. But, after a while, it became easy. Was it considered murder if the Rabids were trying to kill him in the first place?

Dean didn’t think of it as murder anymore. Not after everything he’d seen. The Rabids may have been people at one point, but now they were monsters. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill, so neither could he. Not if he wanted to survive. 

For a while, Dean was convinced that he needed to survive. He wanted to avenge Sam and take down as many Rabids as he could, all while searching for his father, who was more than likely dead, or worse. For a couple of months, he felt onto they hope that things would get better. There had to be people working to cure the virus and fix this mess. 

One month passed and things were only getting worse. After two months, Dean started to be realistic. No one was coming to help. The Rabid outnumbered everyone else and more people were turning every day. This wasn’t going to end as abruptly as it began. This was a long term extinction event. It had to be.

Dean was in Colorado, working his way west. His dad was in California when all this bullshit started; maybe he was still there. Not that it mattered, since Dean was currently stranded. He’d been stuck in someone’s panic bunker for over a weeks, after using nearly all of his ammunition on a pack of Rabids while out on a food run. 

There was only one bullet left in Dean’s gun and using a machete to gut a Rabid was too risky. Getting that close was pretty much asking to get infected. Hell, suicide was a better option than going out there with one bullet and a machete. Dean would have rather died than get infected.

Dean had enough food and water in the tiny bunker to last him another week, but after that, he would have to leave. He didn’t want to leave after nearly getting bit while ‘evicting’ the old owners, who hadn’t escaped the virus. It was safe here, for now, and he was alone. Leaving just wasn’t a good plan.

But...eventually there would be no other option. Starving to death or dying of dehydration weren’t at the top of Dean’s list of ideal ways to die. He wanted a choice in the matter, if at all possible. His choice was either leave for supplies and likely turn into a Rabid, or opt out. The latter seemed like the more logical option. He wasn’t afraid of Hell anymore, not after seeing a human being eaten alive; Dean never truly believed in monsters before the Rabids.

This new life wasn’t worth it. The constant fear, the hunger...the lack of technology and running water. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he slept longer than an hour in one go. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with this survivor’s guilt. It was destroying him. 

Dean couldn’t live like this. There was only one way to end the pain and every second that passed made that option more and more appealing. There was one bullet left. One shot and it would be over. Quick and easy. 

What did he really have to live for? Dean was alone. His family was dead. It was only a matter of time before he got infected if he didn’t end it now. This was for the best.

Dean picked up his gun, taking the safety off, “let’s hope the afterlife doesn’t suck this much,” he mumbled, standing up to open the escape latch. There was still enough water and food to last someone a week; if he was going to opt out, the least he could do was leave the door unlocked for someone else...if there was anyone left out there.

Taking a seat again, Dean inhaled slowly, raising the pistol to his temple as he shut his eyes, “I’m comin’ for you, Sammy,” he whispered, exhaling as his finger hovered over the trigger, hesitating. After a moment of silence, Dean was ready. He cleared his mind, “later, apocalypse-”

Just before Dean went to pull the trigger, he could have sworn he heard a voice. He opened his eyes and lowered the gun, “what the hell?” he listened for a moment to see if he could hear the voice again. 

Sure enough, the voice came. Someone needed help. Dean didn’t think. He instantly ran to help. It had been weeks since he’d seen another person. He was half-convinced that he was the only one left. 

_“No!”_ the man’s voice cried, _“Go away! Leave me alone!”_

Dean ran toward the sound of the stranger’s cries. It was close. He heard a scuffle coming from a few houses down; it sounded like someone shaking a metal fence.

 _“Help!”_ The stranger yelled, _“Anyone, please!”_

Dean froze, spotting the source of the yelling. There was a Rabid trying to get into a chain link enclosed dog kennel, where a dark-haired man was hiding. He locked eyes with the man, and knew he needed to help. 

Without hesitation, Dean shot down the Rabid, using his last bullet. The stranger stared, wide-eyed, as Dean approached and opened the cage door, “let’s go before more show up,” he said gruffly, helping the man up, “follow me. Keep up.”

Dean turned and started jogging back toward the bunker, glancing back to see the man only a few paces behind him. He held the escape latch open for the stranger, letting him in before locking it down. When everything was secure, he rounded on the man, “were you touched by it?” he demanded, glancing at his machete before returning his gaze to the stranger.

The man was trembling, tears staining the dirt on his cheeks, “no,” he said quietly, “it didn’t touch me,” he pulled up his sleeves to prove his point, “I’m not infected.”

Dean relaxed a little, “good,” he folded his arms, still curious, “so, who the hell are you?”

“Cas,” his eyes met Dean’s again, “my name is Cas.”

Dean offered his hand to Cas, “I’m Dean,” he shook Cas’ hand, “sorry for the Spanish Inquisition. Can’t be too careful.”

Cas nodded, fear still evident on his face, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“Are you okay?” Dean handed Cas a bottle of water.

“I’m fine,” Cas took the water, “thank you for helping me back there,” he opened the bottle, taking a small sip, “that fence wasn’t going to last much longer,” he smiled shyly, “I’m grateful that you saved me.”

Dean shrugged, sitting on his cot so Cas could have the chair, “I heard you yelling out there,” he raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t want more Rabids to show up.”

“Rabids? Is that what you call them?” Cas grimaced, “It makes them sound like animals.”

“It’s not like they’re making a good case for their humanity,” Dean chuckled darkly, “normal people don’t try to attack and eat other people.”

“I guess you’re right,” Cas sighed, “maybe I’m too sensitive for the apocalypse.”

“You’re human and these are dark times,” Dean didn’t know why he was trying to comfort Cas. It just felt right, “if we forget about our humanity, we’re no better than the Rabids.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” Cas’ smile returned, “thank you, Dean.”

“Nah, don’t thank me. We’re a dying breed, we gotta help each other out with the whole moral support thing,” Dean felt himself smiling at Cas. It had been so long since he had smiled. The feeling was almost foreign. He couldn’t remember the last time he even had a reason to smile. 

Cas had a weird magnetic effect on Dean. He couldn’t explain it; maybe it was pity or his subconscious trying to fill the void Sam left. Dean still couldn’t figure out why he saved Cas to begin with. Then it hit him: Dean used his last bullet to save Cas, effectively saving his own life.

In a weird way, Dean felt connected to Cas. He never really believed in fate and all that, but maybe he was meant to find Cas. Maybe there was a reason Cas cried for help when he did. The timing, after all, was perfect.

“So, where are you from, Cas?” Dean asked after a long, but amicable silence. 

“Oregon,” Cas picked at the label on the water bottle, “you?”

“Kansas,” Dean frowned, remember the night he lost Sam, “but that was before all this shit happened.”

“Any family left?” Cas glanced at Dean, “I’m looking for mine, so I figured I’d ask.”

“Probably not,” Dean pulled out his wallet and took out a picture of him with his father and Sam, “unless you’ve seen my dad out there somewhere,” he handed the photo to Cas.

Cas examined the picture, “I haven’t, sorry,” he gave it back to Dean, “was the other man your brother?”

Dean nodded, tucking his wallet away, “his name was Sam,” he closed his eyes, sighing, “he was a good guy.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Cas pulled the chair closer to Dean, “Did you lose him before or after?”

“After,” Dean looked up, a little surprised to see Cas so close, “Sammy got bit.”

Cas gently touched Dean’s knee, “I’m sorry, Dean,” he looked genuinely sympathetic, “I got separated from my brother and sister in California,” he said quietly, “I understand what it feels like to lose siblings. Anna and Gabe are probably dead. I’d probably be as good as dead if you hadn’t come along...I guess what I’m trying to say is I feel your pain.”

“You were by yourself out there?” Dean stared at Cas’ hand on his knee, “Or do you have a group?”

“I’ve been alone since I lost my brother and sister,” Cas withdrew his hand, raking it through his greasy hair, “I hid, mostly. There’s a police station just up the road, so I’ve been there a while. It’s safe and dry, so I call it home,” he chuckled, “and there’s a ridiculous amount of weapons, so it would have been stupid to pass it up,” he half-smiled, “in all honesty, I only left because I’ve seen you walking a few times over the past couple of weeks. My curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to go and knock on your bunker...but then I got chased by a Rabid and you know the rest.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, “you were spying on me?”

“Can you blame me?” Cas smirked, “the apocalypse is boring and I hadn’t seen another person in over a month. You intrigued me.”

“I don’t know if I should be creeped out or flattered,” Dean mused, pretending his cheeks weren’t burning. Had it really been so long since he had a conversation that he was blushing at the tiniest bit of attention? Why was he blushing? This was stupid. Cas wasn’t even flirting.

“It could go either way,” Cas stood up, “my intent wasn’t to be a stalker. I guess I was just lonely and needed socialization.”

“I get that,” Dean watched Cas peering at the various items scattered across the bunker, “I hadn’t talked to anyone since I lost Sam,” he admitted, getting up, “I’m kind of glad we met when we did.”

Cas smiled at Dean, “your timing was impeccable.”

“Yours too,” Dean’s eyes went to his gun, “one minute later and you wouldn’t have been saved.”

“What do you mean?” Cas looked confused.

“I only had one bullet left and life was shit,” Dean mumbled, feeling Cas staring at him, “then I heard you telling and instinct kicked in.”

“You used your last bullet to save me,” Cas cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing,” Dean held up his hands, “I did the right thing. You don’t owe me anything. If anything, I owe you for snapping me back to reality.”

“I guess we both have really good timing then,” Cas picked up the Rubiks cube that was gathering dust on the shelf, “maybe we’d make a good team out there.”

“You think so?” Dean couldn’t help taking a liking to Cas. There was a simple charm about it, “I bet we could take down our fair share of Rabids.”

“And having backup is always a plus,” Cas fiddled with the cube, “even if I’m useless with a gun.”

“That’s alright,” Dean leaned on the table, “my gun is useless without ammo.”

Cas looked up from the Rubiks cube, “I have a stockpile of ammunition, guns and other weaponry at the police station. Help yourself,” he grinned, “I’m also good with maps, if that’s any help.”

“In that case, we should probably stick together,” Dean suggested, “you know, for safety and all that.”

“I agree,” Cas offered his hand to Dean, “if you have my back, I have yours.”

Dean shook Cas’ hand without hesitation, “let’s make the apocalypse our bitch.”


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately, Dean takes a liking to Cas. They're polar opposites, but at the same time, they have a lot in common too. Dean decides to stay with Cas on the journey to find any surviving family members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the feedback and such. I've decided to continue with this project, so expect future chapters! 
> 
> Keep commenting, sharing, leaving kudos and subscribing, guys! And be sure to check out my other fics here! :)
> 
> -Nikki

There was a surprising amount of useful items around the bunker. Dean and Cas decided it would be safer to stay at the police station, since there were guns there. They stuffed their packs with flashlights, batteries and whatever else they could use, double checking the shelves before gearing up to leave. The station was only a couple of blocks away, so Dean even grabbed his sleeping bag, as well as a gallon of water; if he had to run, at least it wouldn’t be far. Hell, if the need arose, he could always hurl the jug at a Rabid and bolt.

Once they were packed up, Dean opened the latch and peered outside. He was relieved that the coast was clear; it was a welcome sight considering he half-expected the gun shot to bring a herd of the bastards to the area. But, it didn’t and Dean wasn’t going to question it. It wasn’t worth it to stress about the ‘what ifs’ of an apocalypse.

“Are there any out there?” Cas asked, trying to see outside.

Dean slowly opened the hatch wider, “we’re good, but let’s hurry up,” he helped Cas out of the bunker, “I’ll let you lead the way,” he shut the door, careful not to let it slam, before following Cas up the road.

The sun was setting as they walked. It was hard to focus on potential threats when the sky looked so beautiful. Dean was entranced but to pinks and oranges sprawled out over the horizon. He smiled in spite of himself. It had been an interesting day. 

“Dean, get down,” Cas grabbed Dean’s arm, yanking him behind a dumpster, “there’s one across the street,” he kept his voice low and Dean could see the fear in his eyes.

“Is the police station close?” Dean peeked around the dumpster to see the Rabid. It was walking on a damaged leg. “That one’s hurt. We can make it if we run.”

“The building is right over there,” Cas pointed up the road, “we’re going to head down the alley next to it. Follow me,” he tugged Dean’s arm, “leave the water for now. I have some stockpiled. We can come back to it.”

Dean put the water down and let Cas pull him up the sidewalk, running until they down down the alley. Cas shut the alley gate and grinned at Dean as he pulled out a keyring, using one of the keys to unlock a heavy-looking door.

“My own secret entrance,” Cas held the door open, “I keep the place locked down, so no one gets in without me hearing,” he explained, shutting and locking the door once Dean was inside.

“Have any break-ins yet?” Dean followed Cas up a set of stairs, looking around as they made their way down a long hallway.

“Not yet,” Cas stopped in front of a door that was clearly a holding area for prisoners, “but, don’t open that door,” he glanced at Dean, “I have two in there.”

“Alive?” Dean stepped away from the door, “Why?”

“When I said I was useless with a gun, I meant it,” Cas said sheepishly, “I don’t actually know how to shoot a gun,” he turned and went down another long corridor, unlocking one last door, “here we are. Home sweet home.”

Dean whistled appreciatively as he walked into the storage room. There were several shelves of food, water and what looked like riot gear; Cas had clearly been there a while. The set-up was impressive. Dean didn’t expect Cas to be so well off, considering he was really good at playing helpless.

“Nice place,” Dean looked around, noticing a cage with tarps hanging from the sides, blocking the view of the inside, “are the guns in there?”

“Along with my nest,” Cas unlocked the cage, “I figured it was the safest place to be, just in case anyone got in, so I hung up these tarps as an added precaution. I thought it looked pretty discreet.”

“That’s ingenious,” Dean poked his head inside, his mouth falling open when he realized how much weaponry was in there, “holy shit, man. You didn’t tell me how many guns were in here.”

“Help yourself,” Cas shrugged out of the filthy tan trench coat he was wearing and draped it over the back of a chair, “I definitely don’t need twenty-something guns.”

“Really?” Dean picked up a pistol, examining it.

“Yeah, take whatever you want,” Cas joined Dean in the cage, “like I said, I don’t know how to use them.”

Dean put his pack down, stuffing the gun into the side pocket before glancing at Cas, “I’ll teach you,” he suggested, his attention going back to the weaponry and ammunition, picking up a particularly small gun, “here, try this one,” he handed it to Cas, “how’s that feel?”

“Dangerous,” Cas looked uncomfortable holding the gun, “I think I’ll avoid these,” he put it back on the rack, “but I do appreciate the offer-”

“I know it’s none of my business, but, don’t you think you should learn how to defend yourself?” Dean raised an eyebrow, “I mean, I’m a badass dude to have for back-up, but if you’ve ever alone and get into trouble,” he trailed off, realizing that he genuinely cared what happened to Cas. The feeling caught him off guard.

This was the friggin’ apocalypse. It was supposed to be every man for himself. Dean knew it was reckless to play the hero; it would likely get him killed. However, he couldn’t deny the he would probably help Cas at any cost.

Dean didn’t have any family left, so it didn’t matter what his fate was. Cas’ family was potentially still alive and that glimmer of hope was enough to get Dean on board. It also helped that Cas was the most genuinely kind person Dean had met since everything went to shit. He felt a strange kind of solace since running into Cas; almost like he’d found what he’d been looking for, even though he was unaware he had been looking for something.

Truth be told, the whole situation was fucking bizarre.

“I know I mentioned it back there,” Cas interrupted Dean’s internal debate, “but, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

“I appreciate that,” Dean walked out of the cage, taking a seat on one of the chairs next to a metal table, “I can keep watch overnight so you can sleep.”

Cas pulled up the chair he’d hung his coat on, taking a seat next to Dean, “you don’t have to keep watch. This room is secure,” he put the keyring on the table, “you should get some sleep.”

“I don’t sleep much anymore,” Dean reached back and took a water bottle, handing it to Cas before helping himself to one, “I prefer being awake.”

“Not me,” Cas took a sip of water, “my dreams are the only place I can escape all of this.”

“You’re lucky,” Dean picked at the label on the bottle, “the only dreams I have are nightmares,” he sighed, “so I sorta lost my enthusiasm for sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cas got up and grabbed two cans off of the shelf, placing one in front of Dean, “do you want to talk about it over a can of Spaghetti-Os?” he half-smiled, “My sister used to cook this stuff for me after a bad day and we’d talk,” he say back down, sliding a fork over to Dean, “I know it sounds dumb, but it really does help to talk.”

There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Cas was one of the good people left in the world. He couldn’t help chuckling at the suggestion, “my brother and I grew up on this shit,” he mused, popping the can top open, “Bobby was never that great at cooking so it was canned everything for us.”

“Was Bobby your father?” Cas asked, stirring the contents of his can, fishing out a meatball.

“Not by blood,” Dean took a bite of pasta, “Bobby was around a hell of a lot more than my dad. Sam and I were with Bobby when that virus started turning people.”

“I take it you lost Bobby,” Cas looked sympathetic, putting his fork down.

Dean nodded, standing up, “about a month into it all,” he said gruffly, feeling his appetite disappear as he went back into the cage. Bobby’s death wasn’t something he liked to remember. 

Cas followed Dean into the cage, taking a set on his makeshift mattress of chair cushions, “I’m sorry for your losses,” he whispered, watching Dean.

Dean slid down to the floor, next to Cas, “it’s my fault they’re dead,” he said miserably, unsure of why he was telling Cas all of this, “I should have been the one who died, not them.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Cas looked at Dean, concern evident on his face, “I’m sure it wasn’t all your fault.”

“You put a lot of faith in a stranger,” Dean frowned, wishing Cas was right. 

“A stranger who saved my life,” Cas corrected Dean, scooting closer, “I think you’re a good man, but because of events you couldn’t control, you believe you’re the villain.” 

“Bobby died saving me,” Dean mumbled, staring at the concrete floor, “and Sam,” he cleared his throat, feeling queasy, “I had no other choice.” 

Dean could feel tears in his eyes. This was the first time he’d openly talked about Bobby and Sam’s deaths. For the longest time he didn’t cry, but remembering the past brought back the trauma of those days. He inhaled slowly, in an attempt to calm himself, but suddenly felt arms around him. Cas was hugging him and the word vomit came. 

“Bobby sacrificed himself so I could get back to the house and protect Sam,” Dean closed his eyes as Cas’ embrace tightened, “I saw him get torn apart...and then I broke my promise to keep an eye on Sam,” his voice cracked, “I had to kill my own brother. Sam made me do it.”

Cas rubbed Dean’s back, clearly trying to comfort him, “they made their choices and there’s nothing you can do to change that,” he squeezed Dean, “none of that is your fault,” he said sternly, “in this kind of world, you should be glad your loved ones had a choice. Most people nowadays don’t get that luxury.”

Dean hadn’t thought about it like that. For the first time since losing his family, he genuinely felt better. He gently returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Cas, “thank you,” he breathed, grateful for everything Cas had done. Even if Cas didn’t realize it, he’d changed Dean’s outlook on life for the better. 

“Anytime,” Cas let go of Dean, “if we’re a team now, that means we have to look out for one another. I may be useless with a gun, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Were you a psychologist before all of this?” Dean raised an eyebrow, growing more and more curious about Cas.

“Me? Not even close,” Cas chuckled, “I was an elementary school music teacher.”

“No shit,” Dean was genuinely surprised, “What’s your instrument of choice?”

“Piano,” Cas flipped on one of the lanterns that lined the wall, “but, I also have been known to pick up guitars, mandolins and ukuleles,” he added, reaching to turn on a second lantern, “what did you do before the world ended?”

“A little bit of everything. I helped out on some local farms for under the table cash, to help Sam pay for law school,” Dean grabbed his sleeping bag and unrolled it, “sometimes Bobby would pay me to help out at his garage,” he sat down on the sleeping bag, “I couldn’t get a real job because I dropped out of school to help raise my brother when my mom died, since my dad was always away on business.”

“My sister was the only mother figure I can remember,” Cas smiled, “her and my brother were always there for me after our parents went missing when I was a baby. Anna is almost twenty years older than I am. I guess you could say I was a bit of a surprise baby.”

“Anna sounds like an amazing woman,” Dean stretched out his legs, “I hope I get to meet your family sometime. They did one hell of a job raising you,” he glanced at Cas, “I promise I’ll help however I can to find them.”

“You’re really going to help me?” Cas’ face lit up, “I half-expected you to grab the guns and go. That’s what most people would do these days,” he paused, his smiled facing, “sometimes I wonder who the real monsters are…”

“Both are dangerous,” Dean said quietly, “Rabids can’t think, which makes them dangerous...but people are just as bad, if not worse, because they can think.”

“The world is a scary place,” Cas hugged his knees to his chest, “I’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”

“You sure you want to trust someone you just met?” Dean half-smiled, nudging Cas, “I could be a complete sociopath.”

“Fortunately I’m an excellent judge of character,” Cas said confidently, “you’re the opposite of a sociopath. You care too much, taking on the problems of the world,” he returned the nudge, “I think my trust is well placed. Not many people care anymore.”

Dean wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but Cas had hit the nail on the head. He had always taken on everyone’s problems as his own. The desire to help people controlled his life. If he wasn’t helping someone, he felt useless.

People always placed their trust in Dean; Bobby, Sam and his parents all trusted him and he let them down. Now Cas had put his faith into Dean and the fear of letting Cas down overwhelmed him. He wouldn’t fail this time. He couldn’t. This time it would be different.

The difference? Dean couldn’t help but put his full trust into Cas as well.

Sure, Dean trusted his family, but the only one he could truly rely on was himself. Cas was unlike anyone he’d met before; Dean never opened up to another person like this. It was as if he’d known Cas his whole life. Being together felt natural. 

An odd thought hit Dean at that moment: was he falling for a man he’d just met?

What had the apocalypse done to him?


	3. Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean feels safe enough at the police station, but is still conflicted about Cas. He decides to explore while Cas is sleeping, in an attempt to clear his head, but runs into trouble, forcing him and Cas to make a run for it. They manage to escape the building, but get trapped up in a tree, after being chased by a handful of Rabids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder that this is a rough draft. All fics here are rough drafts. I know there will be errors in spelling etc, so bear with me. Just trying to get this written out. :)
> 
> Thanks so much for the support so far, but at this point, I want to make it abundantly clear that this is not going to have a happy ending. Turn back now if you're expecting a happy ending. It's not happening.

Dean felt safe in the police station. Something about heavy metal doors and thick concrete was comforting to him. His body was more relaxed than it had been in weeks. Normally, being this comfortable, Dean would have no problem falling asleep.

Cas was already snoring peacefully, a small smile on his lips. Dean wished sleeping was that easy. He stared up at the ceiling, forcing himself to stay awake. Physically, he knew he was safe, but he would always be in danger in his own mind. 

Not only did nightmares plague Dean. He also feared thoughts completely unrelated to the deaths of his loved ones. Now that Cas was in the picture, there was the added stress of figuring out what his feelings toward Cas were. If they were feelings at all. 

Dean couldn’t deny enjoying Cas’ company. Cas was a nice guy and seemed trustworthy, but it had been a crazy day. Dean was beginning to rethink trusting Cas. He was having trouble deciding if he actually trusted Cas, or if he was just latching onto the first person who showed him kindness since losing Sam. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

It was frustrating to be so indecisive. Dean was at a total loss. He couldn’t trust his own mind and that made him more dangerous than any Rabid. The only viable option was to leave Cas.

Leaving would be better for everyone.

Dean always brought bad luck wherever he went. If he left now, at least Cas would have a shot at surviving. Despite being unsure about Cas, Dean did genuinely care what happened to him. He didn’t want to be the cause of another death. Not again.

Even though the chemistry Dean felt with Cas was obvious, he was still conflicted. He may have only felt this connection because Cas had unintentionally saved his life. Yet, there was still the slight chance that the feelings for Cas were real. Everything about the situation was confusing, which was made worse by the fact that Dean had no idea what he really wanted. No idea of what to do next. 

After losing Sam, Dean couldn’t think straight. The night he killed his brother was the first time Dean felt actual fear. Sam always had a talent for making Dean feel in control; without Sam, he was slowly starting to lose it. He needed someone to bring him back to reality. Was Cas that person?

Sighing, Dean sat up, looking at Cas, who was fast asleep. He frowned to himself, “who are you?” he whispered, glad that Cas wasn’t awake to see himself being stared at.

Dean needed to clear his head. He carefully stood up, being sure to not wake Cas as he borrowed a lantern and walked out of the cage, which had been left unlocked. There was no way Dean would sleep, locked in a tiny gun closet, with a stranger. The door to the storage room remained locked, but only because there were places to hide out there in case Cas lied about knowing how to use a gun. Dean couldn’t be too careful.

The keys were lying on the table, so Dean decided to borrow them and go exploring. If he was going to be calling this place home for the time being, he needed to know the layout. He quietly slipped out into the hall, leaving the door unlocked, just in case he needed to get back inside in a hurry. The place was supposedly locked down, so Dean wasn’t overly concerned about one door being unlocked. 

In the hallway, Dean used the lantern to make his way up to the main floor. It was so dark, he couldn’t see anything without the lantern. Even with the windows around, there was very little light. He would never get used to how dark night time was without electricity. After nearly a year, it was still strange not to see street lamps. It wasn’t the darkness that made Dean feel on edge. The lack of noise was anything but comforting. Dean had to be extra careful not to make a sound, because it would echo and attract unwanted attention. The last thing he wanted was to fight a pack of Rabids in the dark.

As he made his way into a dispatch area, Dean noticed an emergency exit on the ceiling. It was just a small hatch, above a set of stairs leading up to what he assumed was office space. He held up the light to get a better view as he walked up the stairs. There was a cord hanging down from the hatch. It was most likely locked, but Dean’s curiosity got the better of him; he yanked on the rope. Hard.

Immediately, the hatch flew open and a retractable metal ladder came crashing down, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Dean jumped back just in time, cursing loudly before covering his mouth, freezing where he stood. So much for being quiet. He felt idiotic for pulling the rope. 

Dean glanced around, his heart racing, “I think I’m good,” he breathed, testing the ladder’s strength before quickly climbing up toward the door. 

At the top of the ladder was a second hatch, which Dean easily pushed open, revealing the night sky. He climbed out onto the roof and inhaled slowly, savoring the cool air. He was safe. No Rabids heard him. He relaxed a little, but his moment of solace was cut short by the sound of metal hitting pavement.

“Shit,” Dean ran to one side of the roof and peeked over, but nothing was there. Weird.

Dean went to the other side of the roof, closing his eyes for a moment before finally looking over the edge, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

There was a pack of no less than a dozen Rabids heading toward the police station. All of which appeared to be riled up. Dean was trapped now. The windows downstairs would keep a couple of pissed off Rabids out easy...but a dozen or more? This was bad. 

Dean sat down, trying to think of a plan. The roof was safe as long as the ladder was pulled up. He exhaled, feeling a pang of relief at the thought. He was still safe, at least for now. But, the relief didn’t last. As he went to pull up the ladder, he remembered he wasn’t alone. Cas was asleep in the building. Dean’s stomach dropped. Cas was inside.

Instinct took over at that point. Dean hastily climbed down the ladder, hearing the banging on the windows as he descended. By the time he was leaving the main floor, booking it toward the stairs, he heard one window shatter. The Rabids were getting inside. He had to get to Cas.

The building was compromised. They had to leave. Now.

The storage room door was ajar, so Dean slipped inside and slammed it shut, “Cas, wake up,” he went into the cage and kicked Cas’ foot before grabbing his pack, shoving as much ammo, weaponry and supplies as he could into it, “we gotta go, man.”

Cas sat up, visibly alarmed by the rude awakening, “what’s going on?” he yawned, slowly getting up.

“Rabids,” Dean zipped up his backpack, looking at Cas, “grab what you can, we gotta-”

“Rabids?” Cas’ eyes were wide, “What happened?”

“No time to explain, just grab some supplies,” Dean decided against grabbing his sleeping bag; his pack was already heavy enough. They had to make a quick getaway.

Pack stuffed, Dean tossed the station keys to Cas, to hold onto just in case they could win back their hideout, before leading him out of the room. He kept peeking back to make sure Cas was keeping up, as they reached the door they entered through earlier. Cas unlocked and opened it.

“We’re clear on this side,” Cas pushed the door open, letting Dean out, “I’ll follow you.”

“Haul ass to those trees back there,” Dean heard a metallic clanging noise and saw the alley gate opening, thanks to a few Rabids he hadn’t seen before, “Cas, run! I’ll back you up,” he pulled out one of his guns, “I’ll shoot them-”

“Dean, no! We don’t want more coming,” Cas yanked Dean’s arm, “come on!”

Dean hesitated for a moment, pointing the gun at the first Rabid coming through the gate, before turning and running after Cas. They made their way into a field, out of breath, but not stopping, as they neared the trees. Dean ran as fast as his legs would take him. He wasn’t dying tonight.

“I’m right behind you,” Dean shouted, “get to the trees,” he glanced back and saw the three Rabids, almost sprinting to catch up with them, “they’re following us, keep going!”

Cas looked back at Dean, “they’re going to catch us,” he panted, “we’re going to-” his sentence was cut short as he tripped and tumbled to the ground.

“Cas!” Dean caught up, helping Cas to his feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the nearest tree, “you ever climb a tree?” he asked, his chest heaving, but his eyes on the rapidly approaching Rabids.

“No,” Cas looked at the tree, “but now is as good a time as any to learn,” he reached up and grabbed a branch, attempting to pull himself up, “I can’t-”

Dean gave Cas a boost into the tree, “climb as high as you can,” he jumped and latched onto the branch, struggling to get up into the tree with all the added weight in his backpack. 

Cas steadied himself on the limb, grabbing Dean’s hands and tugging him up onto the branch. They carefully made their way up the thick branches, finally stopping about twenty feet up. Dean leaned against the rough bark, attempting to catch his breath; Cas was staring at the ground.

Out of danger for the moment, Dean chuckled, “that was close,” he nudged Cas, “you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas looked at Dean, “provided our friends down there don’t figure out how to climb trees.”

“Those numb nuts are too stupid to figure out climbing,” Dean watched the Rabids fighting to reach them; it wasn’t going well because they were climbing over each other, hindering their progress. It the situation hadn’t been so dangerous, it would have been entertaining to watch the struggle.

“Dean, why were they trying to get us in the first place?” Cas was frowning, “We were being so careful. What happened back there?”

“I may have gone exploring while you were sleeping,” Dean raked his hands through his extremely greasy hair, “there’s also a possibility that I may have made some noise and attracted their attention.”

Cas sighed, “I guess the police station was too good to be true after all.” 

“Sorry about your hideout,” Dean felt awful, even if it was all an accident, “I promise I’ll get us out of this. Once you’re safe, I’ll leave.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m not mad,” Cas shrugged, “I would have had to leave eventually. My siblings aren’t going to find themselves,” he smiled weakly, “who knows, maybe we’ll run into your father.”

“I wish I had a fraction of your optimism,” Dean closed his eyes, exhaling loudly, “I lost hope months ago.”

“After everything you’ve been through, who can blame you for feeling hopeless?” Cas touched Dean’s forearm, “You just need to force yourself to believe that things could always be worse. There’s always a positive to any situation, Dean.”

“Really?” Dean rolled his eyes, “We’re stuck in a tree with three Rabids hell-bent on murdering us, but we can’t shoot them because more will come and it’s not like we have a hideout anymore. The bunker I had is probably overrun-”

“True,” Cas interrupted, his voice calm, “but, we’re alive and safe for now,” he looked up at the sky, “and we have a beautiful view of the moon and stars up here.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t have a rebuttal. Cas was right. They were safe for now and that was definitely a positive. Dean closed his mouth and looked at the mood, deciding not to say anything at all. 

Things could have definitely been worse. At least Dean wasn’t alone anymore; the optimism Cas brought to the table made him feel a lot better than he did twelve hours ago. Had Cas no come into his life when he did, there was an undeniable chance that Dean wouldn’t be sitting in this tree, looking up at the sky. Sure, there was danger below, but for now, Dean felt at peace, gazing up at the moon with Cas by his side. Something in the pit of his stomach was telling him that they wouldn’t die here. Not tonight.

The cracking of a branch caught Dean’s attention. He snapped his attention to the Rabids on the ground. One of the bastards had gotten ahold of one of the limbs and was clumsily making it’s ways toward them. Dean’s pulse was pounding in his ear as he glanced at Cas, who looked terrified.

“I have to shoot them. It’s our only chance,” Dean reached for the gun in the waistband of his pants and took off the safety, “when they’re dead, get ready to run-” he was cut off by an arrow whizzing in, out of nowhere, impaling the climber through the back of the skull, knocking it to the ground onto the others. Before Dean could process what had happened, two more arrows put down the remaining two Rabids. 

“What the hell?” Dean climbed down a few branches to find out where the arrows came from, “is someone down there?” he called out, squinting to see in the dark, “hello?”

“Hi there,” a woman’s voice surprised Dean.

“Who’s there?” Dean frantically tried to spot the source of the voice.

“Oh, you know, just us girls,” a petite woman stepped into view, the moonlight revealing her vivid red hair. She was holding a crossbow, “how’s the weather up there, boys?” she asked sarcastically, as a second woman joined her. A blonde.

“Looks like we got a couple of kittens in a tree, C,” the blonde mused, also holding a crossbow.

“Why don’t you idiots come on down,” the redhead looked behind her, “you two have about a dozen Rabids heading this way.”

Dean looked at Cas, who nodded enthusiastically, before carefully climbing down to join the girls on the ground. He helped Cas regain his balance when he jumped, before turning to the strangers, “who are you?”

“The girls who just saved your asses,” the blonde woman nodded toward the trees, “let’s have this conversation in the tree fort,” she slung her crossbow over her shoulder, heading into the woods.

The redhead followed the blonde’s lead, “this way,” she pulled the arrows out of the dead Rabids before following the blonde into the trees. 

Dean and Cas jogged to keep up with the women. They ran for a few minutes, in silence, until the redhead stopped and pulled a rope, hanging from a rather large tree. A rope ladder fell from what looked like a well-camouflaged tree house.

“Alright, everyone up,” the blonde quickly climbed up, helping everyone inside.

The redhead turned on a few camping lanterns, “welcome to Chateau No Rabid,” she grinned, “and, you’re welcome, by the way.”

Dean felt Cas gently groping his sleeve, but chose not to acknowledge it, “who are you two?” he asked again, still shocked that he and Cas got out of that tree without being killed in the process.

“I’m Charlie and this delightful gal is Jo,” the redhead was still smiling.

“We’ve been watching you two all day,” Jo put her crossbow on a small makeshift table, “we saw you go into the police station and thought we’d keep an eye on you,” she nodded toward a telescope, “you’re lucky I was keeping watch when I saw you guys running from those Rabids.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “so, you’re stalking us-”

“I’m Cas, that’s Dean,” Cas elbowed Dean to shut him up, “thank you for your help back there.”

Jo suddenly looked excited, “you’re not Dean Winchester, are you?”

“Who wants to know?” Dean asked defensively, frowning.

“I friggin’ told you it was him. He looks just like the picture,” Jo punched Charlie in the arm, “you owe me a candy bar, woman.”

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck is going on?” Dean demanded, baffled as to how strangers knew his last name. He hadn’t even told Cas his whole name, “How do you know my name?”

“Well, Dean, this is going to sound crazy,” Charlie smirked at him, “we’ve been looking for you.”


	4. update

Hi all. 

Thanks so much to everyone reading this. I just wanted to post quickly to tell you guys that I promise a new chapter soon. Between GISHWHES and being short staffed at work, I've been too exhausted to even think about writing. But I assure you all that I haven't abandoned this fic. 

In the meantime, why not check out my other fics? :)


End file.
